


Maid of Awesome

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Category: The Middleman (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Female Protagonist, Humor, Oneshot, Slice of Life, Yuletide, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anything's possible when you have really good shoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maid of Awesome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bee (bribitribbit)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bribitribbit/gifts).



> This was originally written for Bee for Yuletide 2008. Thanks to sherrold for the beta.

Like most notorious supervillians, Jack Frost was a weird guy. During one of his many bids to take over the world, Jack had auditioned to be on Project Catwalk, but failed to make the initial cut. Still, he'd taken his love of bad fashion and used it to design not only the uniforms of all of his minions, but also his support staff. His erstwhile mansion looked like rock-and-roll Liberace, with just a hint of Chthonian madness, visible mostly in the olive drabs and dark greys.

Wendy was stuck in jungle-print fetish wear for her undercover stint as fourth under-maid in Frost's household. It wasn't exactly what she would have chosen, but it was better than what she'd worn working at the Booty Chest, the pirate-themed sports bar with scantily clad waitresses. Plus she had some killer shoes to go with it.

Haphazardly dusting the collection of blood-encrusted death's head figurines on the parlor fireplace mantle, Wendy kept an eye out for creepy butler guy, but _he_ seemed to be far more interested in the scoping out the chauffeur than he was in checking up on her work. She double checked that no one else was looking at her, then ducked into the empty library.

Ida had used the Hadar to trace the Middleman to this location, before the signal on his watch was lost. Scanning the room, she looked for someplace large enough to hide a door to Frost's mad scientist's lab--

She held her watch up in front of the disturbing life-sized portrait of John Frost, Sr.--looking like one of those things that would elongate out in the Haunted Mansion, showing how the guy died--and confirmed that there was a hollow space behind it. Shoving it aside, Wendy found the barricaded secret entrance to an underground lair. Pulling the vial of spit out of her pocket--ewww, gross-- she dumped it on the DNA sensor, and the door opened with a pneumatic thwack, hiss.

Huh. Airlock.

From the faint sounds she could hear, it sounded like Jack was well into his monologue: "I will surround the world with a snowy, wintery death. The great old ones shall rise from their Arctic lairs, destroying all the cities in their path."

"Sounds like a cure for global warming," the Middleman said, his voice faint and slurred, but definitely alive.

Something hard and tight in Wendy's chest relaxed a little, and she had a moment where she just had to lean over and take a couple of deep breaths, steadying herself, before she could continue on; she really needed to put more time in on the treadmill if this little adventure was getting to her so much. She scrambled down the spiral staircase, cursing the way her 4-inch kitten heels caught on the treads. Hitting a landing, she pulled them off, tucking them away in the pockets of her oversized apron.

Hey, cool leopard print pumps were pretty hard to come by. She'd had to go to three different thrift stores to find them.

Uh, oh. The notorious supervillian Jack Frost's voice rang out as he came to the end of his ranting, "My plan is sheer elegance in its simplicity."

Crap, no time to waste. Barreling out of the doorway, Wendy threw her shoes at the evil villain, hitting the off switch on the icy death freeze ray before it could puncture a hole in her boss. The notorious supervillian Jack Frost looked over at her, obviously startled, as the Middleman jerked in his bonds. He'd been stripped to the waist for this, his arms bound over his head, body bowed over the tip of the freeze ray.

Wow, she kept forgetting he had some great guns on him. Great place for a tattoo.

"Cry me a molten river of death," Wendy said and leapt over the Ikea knock-off desk, legs aimed straight at the bad guy. Though some serious application of the teachings of Sensei Ping, she stunned the notorious supervillian Jack Frost. She grinned at the Middleman as she pulled the gag from his mouth, and uncuffed him from the front of the freeze ray. Kicking evil villain ass was never anything less than awesome.

The Middleman nodded at her, his eyes bright. She looked carefully at him, evaluating the way his eyes were dilated. Looked like the notorious villain Jack Frost had slipped the Middleman a mickey, before trying to puncture him with a frosty snow cone of death. "You okay, bossman?"

"Have you ever noticed, Dubbie, that seldom is anyone whelmed anymore? They're overwhelmed by emotion, or underwhelmed by it, but rarely whelmed." He paused a moment to look her straight in the eyes. "In this case, I am much more than whelmed. Thank you for saving me."

"That's great." She rolled her eyes at him and gave a half-shrug. "Where's the rest of the uniform?" she said, feeling both awkward and excited, like she had a real good static electricity build up and her hair was standing on end. "Oh, shit! The freeze ray's on overload."

"Let me get that," the Middleman said, and he slid to the floor, wriggling around to the back of the machine; the lack of a tie and an Eisenhower jacket seemed to make him much more flexible. He had a really nice ass, too. There was a whir and a pop, then he wriggled back out from behind the machine, holding a giant plug in his hand. "That should fix it."

"Probably." He had streaks of purple goo in his hair and on his chest, and a couple of bruises were starting to come out, but he looked pretty good for having been a prisoner.

"Is there something on my face?" The Middleman rubbed his hands over his face, smearing the goo over everything. "We should get going."

Wendy looked around and spotted his jacket and shirt hanging on a hook outside a prison cell. She snagged them and tossed them over to the Middleman. "You might want to put on your shirt first. It's a little drafty up there."

"Oh. Right." He fumbled with the buttons; Wendy walked back over and knocked his hands out of the way, buttoning his shirt for him.

"Can we get out of here now? The floor's freezing."

Wrapping his arm around her, the Middleman gave her an affectionate squeeze. "We make a good team."

"Tell me that when you're not stoned sometime, 'kay?" Patting his hand, she slipped out from under his arm, and picked up the shoes she'd flung at the ray gun. "Oh, man, I broke a heel."

"Let's get this heel down to headquarters," the Middleman said, rolling Jack Frost over and hauling him up into a fireman's carry. "And then we can see what we can do about repairing your shoe."

"You know, Ida's going to call these hooker shoes." Wendy said, climbing back up the staircase.

"I have no doubt," the Middleman said, using one hand to hold the prisoner on his shoulder, the other one to pull down and smooth his jacket.

Wendy smiled. It felt good to have him back.

The End


End file.
